


Healing Simplicity

by DigitalMoriarty



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: BAMF Neville Longbottom, Everyone Has Issues, Harry Potter Has PTSD - Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Minor Ginny Weasley/Luna Lovegood, Non-Sexual Kink, Non-Sexual Submission, Not Epilogue Compliant, PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-14
Updated: 2016-02-22
Packaged: 2018-05-20 07:47:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5997513
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DigitalMoriarty/pseuds/DigitalMoriarty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the war, everyone is a bit broken, some more than others. Thankfully, sometimes broken pieces can fit together into something new.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Waking Up

"Harry."

 

Harry blinked himself awake, being soothed from any hint of alarm by Neville's gently amused smile. It had been a good night. Neither of them had had nightmares, and they'd gotten at least six hours of restful sleep. Much better than some nights had been.

 

"Mmm?"

"Up you get. It's 8:30, and you know the rule."

 

8:30? He'd managed to get that much sleep? But even as he was thinking that, his body was moving. He did know the rule.

 

Up and having breakfast by 9 AM.

 

It was sometimes a very hard rule to follow, but Neville always helped him and didn't let him dwell too much on those days he failed.

 

Sleepily, he followed Neville downstairs (Neville had likely gotten up significantly earlier and worked in the garden until whatever thoughts forced him into wakefulness had settled) and set to work making them both breakfast.

 

That was another thing.

 

He had spent so long helping other people, doing things for other people, that he couldn't seem to stop. But Neville made it easy. Easy rules to follow, easy orders to obey, easy ways to help.

Make them both breakfast (Cereal on most days, sometimes toast. Tea or juice or milk). Eat what he could (But always at least a few bites). Get dressed (In something. Neville didn't really care what). And then come and sit out in the sun for a few minutes.

 

Every day there was some small chore, something he could complete and feel good about. (Dusting the bookshelves or doing the dishes or sweeping).

 

And no magic.

 

That was something else. Doing things by hand, not needing to use the magic that had been so linked in his mind with horrible things during the war.

 

It all helped Neville too, he knew that. Gave him someone to focus on, something to keep him out of his own mind.

 

It was a routine. A safe routine. All he had to do was let Neville be in control. And Neville would make sure everything was okay.

 

He'd woken up more by the time he entered into their neat little kitchen, settling into the steps of breakfast making. Put the kettle on for tea, ask Neville what he wanted (toast with orange marmalade this morning), get out bread and marmalade, make the toast, make the tea, set everything up on the table, plates and cups, and then put it all together and sit down beside the taller man to eat.

 

"After this, put the dishes in the sink. Then I want you to brush your teeth and hair. After you do that, I want you to sweep the front hall. And when that is done, take a long shower and make sure to wash your hair well. Once you've done all that, come find me. Can you do that for me?"

 

Neville's voice is gentle as he eats the last of his toast and drinks what's left of his tea. Harry'd managed to finish all of his breakfast today, and nodded absently as he took the last bites of it. When Neville just looked at him expectantly, he swallowed and added "Yes Neville."

"Good. I'll be out in the garden. Just come find me there. And if you have trouble, come get me. Okay?"

"Yes Neville."

"Good. Off you go."

 

Before he left though, Neville stood and gave him a tight hug, whispering "I love you Harry." against his hair before releasing him. When Neville hugged him like that, it felt like he was pressing Harry back into his bones, pulling the escaping... everything, back into place. Sometimes he thought that was one of the only things that kept him sane.

 

Pressing a kiss to Neville's cheek, he went off to follow the orders he'd been given.

 

Dishes in the sink. Teeth and hair. Broom and front hall. Long shower. Scrub his hair like he'd been told. Wrap up in the comfy bathrobe Neville had bought just for him, and go down to the garden.

 

Step by step by step.

 

Neville wasn't working on anything, just sitting in the sun, looking... heroic, with the light making his skin seem like it's glowing. Sometimes Harry wishes it had been Neville. Neville carrying the scar and the burden. But he loves Neville, and he wouldn't wish 'The Boy Who Lived' on his worst enemy.

 

Neville had suffered enough as it was.

 

As if he knew Harry was thinking about him, Neville looked up and gave Harry one of his wonderful smiles as the smaller man came close.

"All done Harry?"

"Yes Neville."

"Then come sit in the sun with me for a bit. Then we can have lunch."

 

Nodding, he shuffled over, settling into Neville's lap and letting the bigger man curl around him. He felt... safe here. The way he'd never been safe before. And after a lifetime of danger, from one source or another, safety was a gift.


	2. Moving Forward

Neville had endured Umbridge's ire, protected the other students from the Carrows and led the DA against them, had stood up to Voldemort and killed Nagini. Nothing in this world after the war could scare him. And nothing could keep him from protecting Harry from anything that tried to hurt him.

 

There was a reason Neville had books of curses hidden away in their library. A reason the Sword of Godric Gryffindor was in the living room. A reason Neville was  _ never _ without his wand.

 

Neville would fight so that Harry would never have to ever again.

 

"Hermione sent me an owl early this morning, asking if she and George could visit. They're coming over after lunch."

 

Harry froze. People didn't often visit them. Their little house was a haven, safe from the outside world. But Neville responded immediately to his knee-jerk alarm.

 

"Shhh. You'll be fine. They'll be gone before dinner. And I'll be there the whole time. Do you trust me Harry?"

"Always!"

"Than trust me to know you. And I know you can do this."

 

And Harry did trust Neville.

Had trusted him completely from the moment Neville had shaken him awake from a nightmare, held him tight and whispered "It's okay, you're safe" over and over and over again, until he'd calmed down and stopped shivering. And when he calmed, he'd noticed all the scars, across the other man's chest and the raised mark on his cheek which he'd never really noticed before. When he tried to get a few more hours of sleep, he trusted Neville to tuck him in and stand guard while he slept.

 

And he'd remembered, in the weeks after, what Neville had done over the years.  _ All _ that Neville had done.

 

Neville was a leader.  Was strong and fierce and looked after his own. ...Harry didn't want to be a leader anymore. He didn't want to be strong. He didn't want to fight.

 

He had died for his cause. Wasn't that enough? So  _ what _ if he'd come back?

 

And after the third night of trying to cope with nightmares (Ron and Hermione and all the others had their own troubles, their own demons to fight, and their own rooms to sleep in. He had no desire to trouble them with what woke him screaming in a sound proofed room) and Neville waking him up, he asked...

 

Well, he asked if Neville would mind... helping him. Just for a little. Help him make things simple. To rest. Just... just for a little.

 

Because people wouldn't _leave. Him. Alone._ The Ministry and the Prophet and those who wanted to thank him... Or blame him.

 

And Neville had just looked at him, with his clear eyes (And dark circles under them, because Harry wasn't alone in his nightmares) and smiled a gentle smile. And agreed. Agreed to help Harry make things simple.

 

And Harry hadn't really known what he was asking. No. That was wrong. He knew what he was asking. Knew what he wanted. But he didn't... know how things should work, how to make what he wanted happen...

 

But Neville, somehow, did. (He learned later that Neville had done research, when he agreed to help. Abandoned the magical resources when they didn't produce what he wanted, got Hermione to take him to a muggle bookstore. Or six. And never told her why.)

 

And it just...

 

Neville slowly took over more and more. Not because he wanted to really, or at least as far as Harry could tell. But because Harry needed him to.

 

When he found Harry locked in his room (the room spelled to deny entrance to anyone using magical means. He hadn't thought to include something to prevent someone from just... kicking it open.) curled up and sobbing because it was  _ all too much _ he just… Sat down, tugged him into his lap and stroked his hair until he calmed down.

 

Then told him "We're going away somewhere. Just you and I. And when we get there, you're going to do just what I tell you to. And I won't let this happen again. Because they'll have to go through me to do it."

 

And then...  Well, and then he made Harry laugh in what felt like the first time in  _ years _ when he added "And I have a bloody great sword, so I'd like to see them  _ try _ ."

 

That laughter was why he hadn't even questioned leaving with Neville. Because he knew, in his bones, that Neville  _ would _ take Godric's sword to anyone who tried to hurt Harry.

 

And Neville had found them a place to go away to. Bought them a house out in the middle of nowhere in... Harry didn't even bother to remember the country. He just knew that no one in the nearest village spoke much English and no one recognized him. Neville had told his friends that they were going on a trip.

 

By then, Luna had pulled Ginny into... whatever little world Luna had chosen to occupy after the war, and Hermione and George were clinging together like they were trying to keep themselves from drowning. Everyone was trying to cope in their own ways. So they hadn't really asked many questions.

 

And when they got to their little place, Neville had sat down with him, and they'd made a list of rules.

Simple, clear cut rules.

Written out in clear letters on parchment and copies of them taped up on a couple of walls.

Rules that Harry could follow. Rules that would make his life simple.

 

And rules... Rules without punishment. There were rewards. For when he'd done especially well, or for when he'd done something to make Neville proud. And it wasn't hard to make Neville proud of him. Not really. Because Neville loves him and takes pride in his accomplishments, in his little successes.  But no punishments. Just Neville sitting with him, and looking at what had gone wrong, and how they could keep it from going wrong again.

 

Because Neville just wanted him to be happy. And Neville was… Magic. The good sort of magic, the magic he'd felt when he first learned he was a wizard and was special and had people who wanted to be his friends.

 

Neville didn't worship him, or put him on a pedestal, or demand things of him that he couldn't give. Neville just... made things simple. Never asked for more than Harry could give. Sometimes it was hard. So hard. But Neville didn't give up on him, or let him give up on himself. And Harry had always managed it, sometimes not the first time, but eventually.

 

And when people tried to find them, tried to drag Harry back into a complicated world, or tried to force Neville to be something or someone he wasn't, Neville very calmly told them they could bugger off. And if that didn't work, Neville would smile and ask them to wait a moment. And then he'd pull out the sword.  Funnily enough, most people left them alone after that. Maybe it was because, despite many cleanings, Nagini's blood had never really come off.

 

A few people had been... foolish. Harry didn't know exactly what had happened to them. Just that they never came back, and Neville spent a considerable amount of time afterwards hugging him and petting his hair. Harry didn't actually mind all that much.

 

Perhaps, what helped the most, was that they talked. For hours sometimes. Sat together, and cried together (Because Neville was strong enough to let Harry see him weak) and... healed together. Perhaps not the way their friends wanted them to heal. Definitely not the way the world wanted them to heal. But it was healing.

 

And Harry trusted Neville. And Neville trusted Harry to trust him.

 

Neville made them a garden. And Harry read muggle books which had nothing to do with magic. And together they made their own quiet world.


	3. Resting Together

Harry put on real clothes (an outfit Neville picked. Because sometimes the choices 'real' clothes offered were too much. Too many options, too much effort to try and make things match, to try and look like he was put together and normal and the hero the world needed. Or thought it did.) and helped Neville make lunch. Nothing with magic. And Neville handled the knife. Not because Harry couldn't be trusted with one, but because his hands shook sometimes and Neville didn't want him to cut himself. Together they made a salad and fishsticks. Neville gave him options when it came to meals, but never too many. One of the things Harry could safely control.

 

And Harry served them both and sat down at Neville's feet while they ate. It was soothing to lean against his leg and know that if he looked up, Neville would be smiling down at him. It was also nice that whenever Neville had a free hand, he'd reach it down to pet his hair or gently scratch at his scalp.

 

When they finished, and he'd put their dishes into the sink, Neville led him to sit in the living room, and waved his wand to temporarily open the fireplace to the floo network. A minute or two later, Hermione and George stepped out, both of them giving their hosts a smile.

 

"Hello Harry, Neville! It's so good to see you!"

 

Hermione gave them both a hug, and it was... nice. In the way a hug is usually nice. And George gave them one of his crooked smiles and...

 

And all Harry can think of is the war. Is the scar he knows on Hermione's arm, of the nothingness George's prosthetic hid, of the twin that George and Hermione had both loved and who was no longer here. (' _Because of you because you didn't do enough because..._ ') But Neville just took his hand and squeezed it tight and with that reminded him that he wasn't alone.

 

That he had Neville there, and Neville loved him and wouldn't let his thoughts and memories consume him. 

 

He managed to make small talk. It sounded stilted to his ears, and he was happy to let Neville dominate their part of the conversation. He had to resist the urge to slide down, to sit at Neville's feet and curl around his legs, to let the world fade away. To just exist, and let the other man deal with the world and everything it contained.

 

But he did resist. Because Neville knew he could handle this. And even if he didn't believe it, Neville did. And Neville would never let anything happen to him, not again.

 

It felt like eternity, before Hermione and George left. He'd gotten lost about half way through the visit, but thankfully it hadn't mattered much. But when they finally vanished, Neville wrapped him up tight in his arms and whispered "I'm so proud of you Harry. You did so well. Let's have a treat, shall we? You've certainly earned it. I'm so so proud of you."

 

And they did get a treat. They had dessert for dinner, mint chocolate ice cream with mint chocolate chips and chocolate sauce.

 

Once they were done, and the dishes were washed and put away (Harry never washed dishes. It was chief among the chores that reminded him of the Dursleys and Neville would never put him through that, but he did help dry them and put them away), Neville led him upstairs to curl in their big bed. It was early yet, but Neville had them both change into their pajamas and lay down on top of their very fluffy blankets, before he pulled out a book and began to read aloud.

 

"The year that Buttercup was born, the most beautiful woman in the world was a French scullery maid named Annette."

 

Harry fell asleep to Neville's warm voice reading him the story of Wesley and Buttercup. And tomorrow, Neville would make sure he got up before 9 AM, and ate something for breakfast, and did some small chore and sat in the sun. They'd go back to their quiet little world. Go back to healing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this little thing is done. Feel free to comment if you'd like to see more of this world with Harry and Neville or any of the others!

**Author's Note:**

> I do hope I manage to make the chapter breaks somewhat logical. Oh well. I hope you all end up enjoying this!


End file.
